Poison
by Petatep
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to be consumed by something than to fight your way out. AU A/R oneshot with Domestic Violence themes


**Poison by Petatep**

_A/N: Criticism and corrections are more than welcome_

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The word love sounds pretty funny when you're coughing up blood in the bathroom while your partner lies in his bed next door. Our bed. It hasn't been our bed for a long time so perhaps 'his' is the best word to use. 'His' is a good word to describe our situation in general really, it wasn't at the start but slowly our friends became his friends, our desires became his desires, our lives became his. It's quite a strange sensation when you realise that you are not you anymore, that all the things you previously felt certain of suddenly feel shaken, like they are crumbling beneath your feet. Some days I feel like a robot, existing solely on auto pilot, floating through life like a day dream while imagining a different reality - the "what could of beens" haunt me almost always even though I know I'll never leave, sometimes it's easier to be consumed by something than to fight your way out.

I'm a regular at the local A&E now, perhaps if I were a woman they'd have reported me, urged me to call the police, get myself help. Sometimes I wish I were female if only to sooth my ego, men don't get hit and real men don't sit and take it like a fucking child. The first time Axel hit me I cried and packed my bags, I swore to myself that we were done and I'd leave - take a holiday somewhere nice and start over. Didn't happen though, you start running into complications when you don't have a passport.  
It's not the first time he's confiscated my things. When we first got together I was pretty lively, always flitting from one thing to the next, my irresponsibility unnerved him and our dual bank account became singular, I got an allowance but there was never enough. Slowly my personal documents started disappearing: birth certificate, exam results, pay slips, medical forms. That was the first time I felt like I'd physically lost my identity. It didn't take long for it to follow mentally.

My mother noticed the change in me. We'd never been that close, she didn't 'agree with my lifestyle' and found most waking moments to be a good opportunity to remind me of this. She was still my parent however and had what most would refer to as 'woman's intuition'. When she sat me down I was ready, so ready, I needed her to ask the right questions and I would be free. Like one of those awful game shows she watched on Sunday afternoons, "Ask the right question and win an all expenses paid trip to Majorca". She didn't, she accused me of cheating instead. The utter toxicity of my situation seemed hopelessly overwhelming at that moment, it was then I realised that there would be nobody saving me from my poisonous existence. I was the very definition of a condemned man, cast out to sea with everyone hoping for my prompt demise. She doubted me despite my protestations of innocence. I could see it in her eyes and back then I thought nothing could hurt more than my family's blatant distrust. I was very wrong.

We moved eventually, he said we needed a new start, a nice place where nobody knew us and we could do what we liked; or rather we could do what he liked. Next door had been asking me difficult questions and thanks to my mother, Axel was convinced that I'd been fucking the entire tower block – it seemed as good a time as any to get some space. I wasn't allowed to leave the house for the first three months; I didn't even know exactly where we were. I had the address so I could order groceries online but I had no clue about the surrounding area. We were definitely in the countryside but the thought of walking out into the unknown made me feel nauseous, it was safer indoors. When I finally left the house it was only for a check up at the clinic so he could be sure that I wasn't cheating on him.

Cheating's okay apparently though, as long as I'm not the active party. The first few times I walked in on him he beat me, after that he decided that making me watch would be a far more effective punishment for my disturbance. He called it sex ed, if I couldn't please him right he would find some who could and maybe I'd pick up a few tips. He always looks so happy fucking them that I wonder why he's still with me when he could do so much better with the beautiful young things he picks up. That he'd settle for me always feels like a bit of an achievement.

Which is why I don't mind all of this because I know I'm a dead weight and that there's a million other things he could be doing with his life right now - I owe it to him to be the best that I can be and right now if coughing up blood will get me there faster then I'll take it.


End file.
